Aces of Berk
by Black Devil White Demon
Summary: By Black Devil. In a galaxy torn apart from conflict, the young brave pilots of the backwater planet of Berk must rise up to defeat the many unsavory characters who seek to plunder and kill all within their sight. Nothing however, can prepare them for what lies ahead. (Basically How To Train Your Dragon within the Star Wars universe but not a real crossover aside from setting)
1. Revelation

I

**Revelation**

"Commander Hofferson, your presence is requested on the bridge," announced a familiar and slightly annoying voice, stabbing Astrid's ears with unexpected pain.

She reluctantly cracked open an eyelid and saw the familiar, mischievous snaggletoothed smile of Asgerd standing over her. Asgerd was an old childhood friend of Astrid, and the two were practically inseparable, having suffered through thick and thin, from when they were little pint-sized tomboys seeking adventure to the their days as rookie pilots at the Berk Flight Academy.

"This better not be one of your practical jokes now Asgerd. If it is, I'm going back to sleep." Astrid felt terrible. Her muscles ached and jointed burned with an intense fever and a massive headache was starting to develop from sleepless nights of maintenance on her personal starfighter. It didn't help that her back was sore either.

Asgerd shook her head. "I'm afraid it's not. Captain Phlegma gave me the order herself. You're wanted on the bridge, along with me and the senior crew members onboard as well."

Astrid's ailment suddenly vanished as soon as her brain processed that information. Astrid had not served in the Berkian Navy for long, but the implications of that order were daunting. Berkian Naval Doctrine dictated that senior members of the crew and flight squad leaders be assembled when organizing rescue efforts, briefing on orders from Command, or going into battle. All three were equally plausible, considering the _Sandrazor_'s mission was long range patrol in the systems around Berk.

Berk was located at the very edge of colonized space, long forgotten by the New Republic and the Imperial Remnant due to the intense fighting taking place throughout the galaxy. Berk was one of thousands of small star systems that were simply written off as casualties. That was the whole reason that Berk established a strong military presence in the region in the first place, also attributing to the fact that unchallenged pirate armadas laid waste to all they deemed inferior, plundering and looting to their wicked heart's desire.

Those facts, coupled with the urgency of the orders, only seemed to imply something big was going on.

And she needed to get in on it fast.

"Come on Stormfly," called Astrid from behind her, racing out of her cramped private quarters. Her hapless R2 unit looked up from the broken down repair droid she was trying to fix and raced out behind her. Within moments, the blue and yellow astromech was keeping pace with the frantic pilots and they slowed to a fast walk once they realized that the hallways were too crowded to run through.

"Did the captain tell you what was going on?" asked Astrid, making her way through the crowd of confused crew members.

"No. She just told me to round up the senior crew members and to especially get you off your lazy butt."

"Doesn't she know I've been working on the _Deadly Nadder_? Repairing the _Nadder _is time consuming cause of the parts I need to miniaturize."

Asgerd simply rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her unevenly chopped jet-black hair, ignoring Astrid's well-worn spiel.

Astrid took great pride in her ship, a Delta-7B _Aethersprite_-class light interceptor that her uncle, Finn "The Fearless" Hofferson had passed down to her. It was an older ship from the Clone Wars and was widely known as a Jedi ship. It took Astrid and Stormfly weeks to make it fit for duty aboard the _Sandrazor_, as they had to install a micro-hyperdrive as well as increase the hull plating and shield generator output. The result was a fast, versatile fighter that could easily outmaneuver most ships, but that tradeoff was that it was maintenance heavy since even the smallest hit could cause critical damage due to the miniaturized parts Astrid had to install. Most pilots among the Berkian Flight Squads thought it wasn't worth the trouble but the _Deadly Nadder _was her pride and joy, so she didn't care. It preformed equally to that of the standard V-Wings that the Berkian Navy preferred and her performance with it even got her chosen to be the leader of Viking Squad.

Viking Squad was probably the most unorthodox fighter squadron in the entire navy. All of the members were incredibly young, all being twenty standard years old and graduating from the same class. Everyone had their own customized and named personal fighter, so no ship design repeated, except for the Y-Wing, but there were two different variants, one being the Old Republic BTL-B Bomber and the other being the standard New Republic BTL-A4 Fighter/Bomber. An even more unorthodox thing about Viking Squad was that instead of following military doctrine and using traditional callsigns, they instead used the names of their fighters. They didn't use standard maneuvers that were taught at the academy but instead used ones that they had created on their own and practiced until it could be done at the drop of a hat.

All of this, combined with a successful repulsion of pirate attack on a unarmed trading ship, had earned the squadron a place on the Nebulon-B class escort frigate, the _Sandrazor_. The _Sandrazor_ was a highly decorated ship back when it was a cruiser/carrier for the Rebel Alliance. It had participated in many famous battles, such at the Battle of Endor, and was widely known for it's versitale role as a carrier, and its anti-starfighter and ship-to-ship combat capablilites. All of this was due to extensive modifications to the ship's midsection, giving the _Sandrazor_ a distinctive and unique look. Many considered it an honor to serve aboard her, especially since it was one of the only ships to survive the failed invasion of Berk.

Due to the advanced capabilities of the _Sandrazor_, it wasn't common for all the senior crew members to be called up to the bridge or for the ship to be put on high alert. The biggest threat the _Sandrazor_ had dealt with in the last few months was a small squad of cobbled together pirate ships, nicknamed "uglies" due to their makeshift appearance. None of the fighter squads even had to launch before the ship's laser cannons eliminated the threat. Calling up all twelve squadron leaders meant something large-scale was taking place.

But what could it be?

Astrid took a deep breath before entering the bridge's situation room. The situation room was basically a large room with a massive holoprojector in the middle of it with lots of standing room for anyone wishing to see it. Already, most of the senior crew were surrounding the holoprojector and Captain Phlegma.

Captain Phlegma "The Fierce" was a well-decorated Captain, having been one of the few surviving officers among one of the few surviving ships from the Berk's failed attempt to stop the invasion of Berk. She shared the same bulky physique that all Berkian men had and possessed a light Berkian accent, similar to Astrid and Asgerd. Phlegma carried herself with pride and ferocity, as she was a no-nonsense and relentless person, and today was no different.

She stood at the holoprojecter with crossed arms, her intense dark green eyes staring down each and every crew member on the bridge. "Alright, listen up people," she commanded, killing the idle small talk that had filled the room. The Captain flipped a switch and the full body holographic image of Governor Stoick 'The Vast" Haddock materialized in front of them.

The entire room fell silent as everyone stood at attention for Berk's decorated leader. Governor Haddock was a large Berkian man, with large beefy arms, a thick red beard that covered most of his face, and a scowl permanently chiseled into his face. Most people respected Governor Haddock for his role in stopping the Invasion of Berk five years ago.

Five years ago, when he was in charge of the entire Berkian military, he had stumbled upon a fleet of pirates gathering to invade Berk. Stoick personally lead the attack on the pirate with his flagship, the _Victory-_class Star Destroyer, the _Thunderdrum_. They had exited, finding only remains of the fleet Stoick had found and only located a few small squads of pirate uglies, but their hope for an easy victory was soon crushed when the pirate fleet revealed their secret weapon: a Super Star Destroyer called the _Red Death_ which was held together by scuttling their ships_. _Morale dropped quickly as the _Thunderdrum _was swiftly destroyed and the fleet soon broke apart under the sheer firepower of the _Red Death. _

The only thing that saved the fleet was the timely arrival of the unorthodox starfighter fleet piloted by the students of the Berkian Flight Academy. Astrid had remembered it well since she was there, along with Astrid and everyone else in Viking Squad. They were lead by Governor Haddock's own disgraced son, Hiccup, who had defied his father's wishes of going into politics and instead joining Berk's prestigious Flight Academy to become a pilot like his mother. Astrid and the rest of the academy, who had taken off without permission, attacked the _Red Death_, intending to save their parents and loved ones stranded by the conflict, but it was at a great cost. At least a third of the students were shot down and Hiccup had to sacrifice himself and his ship to destroy the _Red Death'_s bridge before Stoick could launch a full-scale counterattack.

Berk had won, crushing the remaining pirate forces, but at a tremendous cost.

Two-thirds of the Berkian Navy had been destroyed and a fourth of the students who had volunteered died. Stoick had lost his only son, which hit him hard since he lost his beloved wife nearly fifteen years prior in a hyperspace accident. Astrid had never seen eyes filled with as much loss and grief as Governor Stoick's eyes were that day. Astrid had been Hiccup's right hand man, the one who supported him when he decrypted some information and found out about the _Red Death _and proposed to launch a rescue missions to the students of the academy. Stoick had asked to see her in private after the fight, wanting some closure on Hiccup's last moments. She tried her best to convey how Hiccup acted in the moments leading up to his death, the calmness of his voice as he accepted his faith, but words failed her. She did her best, but she knew that the Governor was a broken man and would never be fixed.

Those same eyes Stoick had on that day when he asked about Hiccup's last moments were the same eyes he had as he looked down at the senior crew of the _Sandrazor. _He took a deep breath to settle his visibly shaking hands, another sign Astrid picked up that something was wrong.

"I didn't want to be the one to inform you of this, but you all need to hear what I have to say." The sorrow in Stoick's eyes seemed to increase as he muttered,"Approximantely two weeks ago, Berk fell."

A hush fell over the small crew as everyone, even the Captain, tried to process this information. For as long as Berk had been around, it had never been fell to anyone. It had endured pirate attacks, repelled an Imperial Remnant takeover attempt, and survived two global disease outbreaks. The very notion that Berk could fall was preposterous to Astrid as well as everyone else on board.

Yet Governor Stoick's expression was twisted in deep pain and sorrow.

"With all due respect Governor, but what exactly do you mean?" asked the squadron leader of Eagle Squad, his face filled with worry. "How can Berk fall? We have the defense fleet, the planetary shield, and the orbital defense platforms!"

"Besides, no-one has the manpower or firepower to conquer Berk, sir," added Captain Phlegma, trying her best to remain calm.

Stoick let out a deep breath and massaged his temples. "We were betrayed by one of our own: Mildew. The filthily little rat disabled all long range communications as well as deactivate most of our defenses. We were caught off guard by the forces that attacked us. Alvin and the Outcasts had an alliance with Dagur the Deranged and the Berserkers. It was over in the matter of hours. As soon as the battle was over Dagur turned on his ally and wiped out the Outcast fleet. I will warn you: Dagur is hunting down whatever ships that are on patrol as well as any ships that escaped Berk. As of now, the Berkian Navy is now dissolved. The _Sandrazor_ is now a private entity as well as any former ship of the Berkian luck to you Captain Phlegma."

Silence filled the room as the hologram fizzled out, the crowd unable to comprehend what they just heard. Astrid just couldn't take it in.

No.

It couldn't be.

It just couldn't be.

There was no way those two could ever work together. Alvin the Treacherous, like his name suggested, was a treacherous person, prone to backstabbing those he deemed inferior to himself. He used to be a highly decorated Captain in the Berkian Navy, having saved countless lives over his years of service and was widely known to be the best friend of Governor Haddock. However, his tactics were less then humane, preferring not to take any prisoners, and on the rare occasion he did, they were often found dead weeks later with evidence of torture present. Even with all that, even Astrid's own uncle was taken by surpise when he decided to defect from the Berkian Navy with his ship, the _Whispering Death_. He founded the Outcasts, ironically becoming the very thing he loved hunting down.

Dagur the Deranged, on the other hand, was a mentally unstable person whose bloodthirst was legendary and commanded a huge pirate armada. His father, Oswald "the Agreeable" was a very nice and well-respected leader of a nearby planet called Berserk, who maintained a peaceful trade relations with Berk until Dagur usurped his father in a bloody coup. After that, Dagur assimilated the fleets of several pirate armadas and nearby planetary defense fleets through a series of violent battles. Berk was the only planet strong enough to resist the Berserker Armada, but Dagur had mysteriously left the planet alone for the most part.

Until now.

And the Governor abandoning his men?

No.

That wasn't possible.

He would never leave his men to their own fates. He wouldn't do that. He would round them up, rally them under a banner, and unite them. man left behind" policy. He just couldn't leave thousands among thousands of young, scared, and inexperienced Berkian troops alone to the cruel and harsh galaxy.

But he did.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Black Devil here.

Yeah...I did it. How To Train Your Dragon in Star Wars.

This was actually not that hard to do, surprisingly enough, but it will take a while to introduce everything, such as the rest of Viking Squad and their ships, pilots, and possibly astromech droids. That's the reason I kind of rushed the opening, but hey, it's summer. I'm about to spend a large chunk of my time doing nothing, so I might as well do this. Pretty much everything in this story will be a reference to the HTTYD series (books, movies, and tv show) as well as any other series I feel can fit well with what I'm going with.

Just to be fair, updates are irregular so don't expect a consistent update schedule but, like I said, it is summer so we'll see.


	2. Bogies Inbound

II

**Bogies Inbound**

Two weeks.

That's how long it took for the news of Berk falling to reach the _Sandrazor_.

That's how long the crew took to accept the fact that Berk was gone.

That's how long it took for the idea that they were on their own to sink in.

Much to Astrid's surprise, the crew of the _Sandrazor_ got back on their feet once they realized that the majority of Berk had survived the invasion and were now spread across the Outer Rim. Captain Phlegma was able to confirm this once contact was established with the _Providence-_class carrier/destroyer _Savager_ and her captain, Captain Heyral "The Wise". Everyone worked with a revived vigor in the hopes of finding their loved ones.

However, from what Captain Heyral told Captain Phlegma, it seemed that Berk's demise led to a vast imbalance of power. With Alvin's Outcast fleet destroyed and Berkian Navy disbanded, Dagur went unchallenged, already conquering three planets and destroying two space stations.

Dagur's relentless conquest had killed thousands and something needed to be done and it was decided that the _Savager_ and the _Sandrazor_ were going to get revenge by attacking a Berserker outpost.

And Astrid was not happy about that.

"It's a stupid idea!" proclaimed Astrid, furiously stomping into the hangar bay. "It's basically a suicide mission!"

"Yeah, but everyone wants revenge for what they did to Berk! You can't just let that go unpunished!" argued Asgerd, keeping pace. Stormfly stayed right in between them, a barrier in case their argument got ugly.

"I know, but there's a time and a place for that. If anything, we should assemble any other Berkian ships we can find first and then attack. Otherwise, we won't last that long against the Berserkers."

"But we have the _Savager_ and the _Sandrazor_. The _Savager_ was retrofitted for ship-to-ship combat and we have twelve full squadrons of the best pilots the Berkian Navy has to offer on this ship _and_ they have us."

"I know that, but...I just have a bad feeling about this." Astrid split off from Asgerd and looked around the hangar at the rest of Viking Squad as they readied their fighters. Everyone was working on their personal ship, making sure that they would be combat ready once they dropped out of hyperspace in front of the Berserker Outpost.

Each member of Viking Squad was handpicked by Astrid from her graduating class, banded on their mechanical aptitude and skill as a pilot as well as what they could offer to the squad. It was a hard and arduous process for Astrid, deciding exactly who should make up Viking Squad.

For the entire history of Berk, Viking Squad had been the most decorated fighter squadron in the Berkian Navy, often compared to the Imperial Remnant's elite TIE pilots and the New Republic's Rogue Squadron. Viking Squad had always filled a multi-task role, from being escorts one day to leading an bombing run the next day. As a result, Viking Squad had a tendency to have some colorful characters included. Astrid's squad was no different.

A prime example would be the Thorston twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut. They looked exactly alike, sharing the same lanky physique, tan skin, long blonde hair, and lack of common sense. The only real noticeable different aside from gender was the fact that Ruffnut had pale blue eyes and a more defined, angled face as opposed to Tuffnut's dark blue eyes and rough, thuggish looking face. They were adrenaline junkies and were addicted to violence and destruction, or in other words, trouble with a capital T. But that was what attracted Astrid. They shared a two-seat Planetary Defense Starfighter colored green and adorned with dark red spots dubbed the _Hideous Zippleback_ and they often worked in perfect unison with each other. If only they could decide what to call their astromech droid. Ruffnut called their R4 droid Barf while Tuffnut called him Belch. Astrid and the rest of the squad just called their divided droid BB for short.

Another more irritable example would be Snotlout. Easily the most narcissistic, egotistical, and prideful person in the galaxy short of Dagur, Snotlout was loud, brash, a little lacking in brainpower, and rude with little regard for orders or authority. He also considered himself a womanizer, which he wasn't, but that didn't stop him from trying. The only reason Astrid picked him was that he was able to fly his ship, the three-person ARC-170 starfighter, the _Monstrous Nightmare_, by himself. He, along with his equally stubborn dark brown R3 unit Hookfang, had repurposed the Nightmare to be easily repurposed from a medium bomber to a combat starfighter. It was the only redeemable quality of Snotlout's, if that counted as a quality.

Fortunately the rest of her team were far less eccentric.

Asgerd was the first person picked for the squad and she went simple, preferring to use a customized Z-95 Headhunter that she called _Valkyrie_, after some legend they had heard as kids about fearless female warriors charging into battle on winged four legged beasts.

Wartihog was a short, chubby guy with an acme-scarred face and personal hygienic issues, but he excelled at long range patrols and stealth and his ship, the _Rogue_-class starfighter _Lackwit_, was specifically adapted for these purposes with powerful sensor jammers and long range sensors.

Scablout, supposedly a relative to Snotlout, was the exact opposite of him, being well-mannered, respectful, and considerate of others, but was a little bit of a kiss-up. That wasn't unusual, as a good recommendation from a Viking Squadron member went a long way. He flew a Cloakshape fighter called the _Slitherhawk_, customized for heavy combat as it boasted thick hull plates, powerful laser cannons, concussion missile launchers, and shields as well as a rear wing and stabilizer added for improved flight. Unfortunately, his ship was incredibly sluggish and had a wide turn radius, but he could dish out some major damage and he employed creative tactics to balance out his slow speed.

Speedfist was a competent but a rather unremarkable and boring person. He flew a RZ-1 A-Wing interceptor he called the _Thunder Run_. Speedfist was the one of those guys that inspired the phrase "beware the quiet ones" because once he got into the pilot's seat, he was a unstoppable and ruthless pilot. That underwhelming factor is why Astrid chose him.

Wolflegs was a tall, lanky man with a baby face who ironically sported a short goatee. Wolflegs flew a B-Wing he called the _Grapple Grounder._ He supposedly named it after the Grapple Grounder from one of Berk's many legends. Most ships from Berk, even Astrid's own fighter, were named after creatures from Berk's many legends. Wolflegs was a superstitious person, methodically rubbing his forehead with a lucky charm made from animal bones and fur before he got in any type of spacecraft. He was one of the few pilots who could use a B-Wing's massive arsenal of firepower effectively, enabling him to take out pirate frigates single-handed.

Fishlegs was easily the smartest person in the entire squadron, able to identify starships of any classification at a glance and provide valuable information on said starships which they could use to their advantage. He even fixed up the faulty R5 astromech he called Meatlug, despite everyone's objections that the series was unreliable. Unfortunately, the large guy was something of a nervous wreck, which was ironic since he flew a BTL-A4 Y-Wing fighter/bomber called the _Gronckle_, which he had to fly into the thick of combat.

Dogsbreath was a young man with a old guy's soul, having a taste for classic items. He flew what many considered an outdated and antique Eta-2 _Actis_-class Interceptor and even owned one of the original R2 units that came out, calling it Seaslug. Unfortunately, he was a very irritable guy, even calling his ship the _Duhbrain_ after correcting Astrid and the rest of the squad about his peculiar habits.

Clueless was the youngest member of the entire squad, being nineteen standard years old, and was pretty airheaded for a pilot, but he could _fly_. His ship, a V-19 Torrent he called the _Dimbruiser_, was a fast and nimble craft, able to preform complex evasive maneuvers regardless of it's odd configuration.

Froglegs and Piglegs were the only other brother-sister duo part of Viking Squadron. Froglegs was the responsible, if not a little hotheaded ginger, older sibling while Piglegs was the younger, somewhat insecure, younger sibling. They worked fantastically together, flying a old Republic BTL-B Y-Wing Bomber, with Froglegs flying and Piglegs acting as the gunner. Their ship, the _Repto_, was a perfect fit for the siblings. Froglegs's aggressive flying style allowed her to take down both fighters and ground targets while allowing Piglegs a clear arc of fire from his turrent.

All in all, Viking Squadron was unorthodox and filled with mismatched misfits, but they were the best at what they did. Only one problem.

None of them had any combat experience. Sure, they had all participated in the fight against the _Red Death_, but that was against a single cruiser with anti-starfighter batteries. They had also participated in several skirmishes against pirates, but they were always flying cobbled-together uglies, which possessed inferior firepower, speed, and shielding compared to even the most basic starship. This would be the first large-scale engagement they would be involved in, going against cruisers with anti-starfighter defenses _and_ enemy fighters. To make matters worse, this time, they would be going up against real pilots with real ships who know how to fly and dogfight.

Astrid climbed into the cockpit of the Deadly Nadder as soon as alarm rang throughout the hangar, signaling the five minute mark before the task force dropped out of hyperspace. Her hands gripped the controls with sweaty palms as she mentally readied herself yet in the back of her mind, something felt off, but nothing she could think of could ease her anxiety. Instead, she reviewed what Captain Phlegma told her.

The Berserker outpost was a old Seperatist military outpost deactivated during the end of the Clone Wars. A meduim sized space station with moderate defenses, including several quad laser cannon placements and a few concussion missile tubes. Since it was designed to complement droid fighters, so the number of short range fighters in the hangar bay would be limited as they did not have the resources to convert the hangars. Because Dagur had summoned the entirity of the Berserker Armada, there wouldn't be any capital ships to engage them. Tactically, the outpost was a key target as it guarded the shortcut to the armada's main fueling station. Once the outpost was destroyed by the squadrons of H-Wings bombers on board the _Sandrazor_, the makeshift task force would jump to the fueling station and destroy it before rendezvousing back at a barren moon where a new course of action was to be decided.

"Is everyone in position?" asked Astrid to the rest of Viking Squadron. Her comms were flooded with the sounds of confirmation.

"I'm ready to impress my adoring fans!" shouted Snotlout over the comms. "I just hope my hair still looks good after this."

"Shut up, Snotlout," snapped Asgerd. She was never one to tolerate flirts.

The elongated lines outline the hangar began to diminish, dissolving from the dreamlike blue haze of hyperspace to the familiar and depressing darkness of space. It was ironic that Astrid felt queasy whenever she stared at the all-consuming emptiness of space. She was a starfighter pilot after all. Maybe she should take Asgerd's consistent advice to relax a little every now and then. Stormfly turned her domed head towards Astrid, conveying worry in the familiar chirps, beeps, hums, and clicks of droidspeak.

"It'll be okay girl, don't worry," comforted Astrid, although it was more for her sake then Stormfly's.

Astrid gunned the engine, shooting out of the hangar bay and darting left as dozens of V-Wing interceptors launched from the _Sandrazor's_ hangar bays. Astrid glanced around, immediately noting the gas giant below them and the outdated space station ahead. On her right, the bright blue _Savager _launched squadrons of Belbullab-22 heavy starfighters and Belbullab-24 strike bombers as it sped towards the space station. Astrid could clearly see it. The station was a repurposed _Lucrehulk-_class Core ship, one of thousands equipped with anti-starfighter defenses and several small launch bays during the Clone Wars. It had clearly fallen into disrepair as a small debris field orbited the station and little activity could be seen. Parts of the ship were completely exposed to space, revealing the lifeless interior.

Something was definitely off.

"This is Viking Leader, standing by," announced Astrid, as everyone else in the navy referred to them with standard designations.

"This is Eagle Leader standing by."

"Talon Leader standing by."

"Jester Leader standing by"

"Knight Leader standing by."

"Warrior Squadron standing by."

"Fox Leader, standing by."

"This is Lance Leader, standing by for orders."

"Hunter Squadron is standing by and ready for action."

"Able Leader, standing by."

"Hawk Leader, standing by."

"Rover Squadron is standing by."

"Grey Leader is standing by."

"Strike Squadron is standing by."

"Badger Leader is standing by."

"Cobra Squadron is standing by. Awaiting orders."

"Epic Leader, standing by."

"Storm Squadron is standing by. Awaiting your orders Captain."

"Banshee Squadron is standing by. Let's get these guys."

17 squadrons accounted for. Astrid took a deep breath to relax herself as Captain Phlegma's voice took over the comms. "This is Captain Phlegma of the BNV _Sandrazor_. As all of you are aware, the Berserkers took our home from us and scattered us across the Outer Rim. Therefore, we're going to return the favor. All fighter squadrons, protect the bombers as they take out the space station. Once the station is destroyed, we will jump to the fueling station where we will cripple Dagur's fleet. With their main supply and fueling station destroyed, we will orchestrate further attacks with the help of other Berkian ships once we rendezvous at the moon of Tuin. Operation is a go."

The fleet of starfighters drew closer to the station, distancing themselves from the _Sandrazor_ and _Savager_, but no fighters were scrambled from the station nor did Astrid's sensors pick up on lock-ons by targeting computers.

"Stormfly, can you pick up any activity coming from the station?" asked Astrid, eyeing the station for signs of enemy movement. Stormfly promptly replied with a low moan. Astrid quickly switched comm channels to the _Savager_, as it was closer to the station and had more powerful sensor array on board. "BNV _Savager_, this is Viking Leader, do you copy?"

"We copy, Viking Leader," answered a communications officer. "What is your emergency?"

"I'm getting nothing on any of my scanners or sensors. Just want to make sure that it's a system fault or not."

"I can assure you that nothing's wrong with your ship. Our scopes are clear as well."

"Really?" If the _Savager_'s sensors weren't picking up on anything, that wasn't a good sign. "Thanks for you help."

Astrid switch comms back to her squad's personal comms, unsure of what was happening. Everyone was still in formation, growing closer and closer to the station, but still, no resistance. No mines or laser defense system. No automated laser cannons.

Nothing.

"Whoa," interrupted Wartihog, breaking the tense silence. "That was...weird."

"What's wrong?" inquired Asgerd.

"Yeah, your computer malfunctioning again?" Dogsbreath let out a shrill laugh through the comms. Dogsbreath's annoying laughter filled the comms for a solid thirty seconds before remarking, "Told you a ship like that could have never handle the systems you installed in it. It's not made for it. You've should have gone with a classic, like me."

"No, th-this doesn't make any sense. I'm getting weird readings from my long-range sensors, but none of them are saying the same thing," explained Wartihog, panic rising in his voice. "Either my sensors are saying there is one large unidentified signature in the system or that there are hundreds of smaller signatures in the system. Not to mention, my short range scanners haven't picked up anything at all. You gotta believe me, I just reconfigured the computer hours ago. Fishlegs, you helped me, remember?"

"Well, it, um, could be an internal problem," offered Fishlegs, sounding just as worried. That was a problem. If Fishlegs was worried about a mechanical problem, the results could prove fatal if nothing was done to fix it. "Uh, if the computer wasn't programmed to recognize our ships or the station, and maybe if there's...a magnetic field nearby that could potentially interfere with our sensors, then it just might fail to recognize our ships and say they're farther away then where they really are, I think."

"You don't sound very sure Fishlegs."

"Well, Wartihog, I don't think I've ever heard of a malfunction like that. The only malfunctions I've ever heard that are similar to that are ghosts ships, and ninety-seven point five percent of all reported ghost ships appearing on sensors or scanners are due to a error. Surprisingly, only seventy-nine point three percent of those reports are due to mechanical failures rather then human error, unlike other problems like hyperdrive incidents, in which approximately eighty-seven point twenty-three percent of all-"

"Fishlegs, get to the point or I'm going to throw you out of an airlock once we get back if I have to keep hearing you talking about numbers!" threatened Snotlout. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," whimpered Fishlegs.

"Wait a second. You said only ninety-seven percent of ghost ship reporting are due to error. What about the other three percent?" Astrid was growing more and more paranoid by the second. A seemingly abandoned outpost. A open, unguarded route to a critical fueling and supply station. Long range scanner and sensor malfunctions. Something just wasn't adding up.

"It's actually ninety-seven point three per-"

"Fishlegs," stated Snotlout, edging the _Monsterous Nightmare _not-so-subtly closer to the _Gronckle_, staring daggers at Fishlegs from his cockpit,"what did I say about numbers?"

"Sorry," he quickly apologized. "The, um...rest of the ghost ship reportings are actually the scanners or sensors picking up on the magnetic signature of cloaked vessels."

"Did you say cloaked vessels?"

"Yes, yes I did."

Piece by piece, the puzzle in Astrid's head started to fall into place. The seemingly abandoned station. The utter lack of resistance. The empty or malfunctioning sensors and scanners. The unguarded route to the supply station.

But something still didn't make sense. What about the signle large signature and numerous smaller signatures. As far as Astrid knew, no snub fighter could possess a cloaking device.

That's when it hit her.

"Fishlegs, if a large cruiser possessed a powerful enough cloaking device, could it jam sensors to hide a large number of spacecraft?"

"It is a possibility, but the ship would have to have massive power generators in order to generate the necessary amount of energy to cloak itself _and_ jam sensors at the same time. Why do you ask?"

"It's a trap!" screamed Astrid into her comms. She banked up as fast as possible, narrowly dodging friendly V-Wings as she broke formation. The rest of Viking Squadron soon pulled up, distancing themselves from the main formation.

"Viking Leader, why have you and your squad broken formation?" asked Captain Phlegma. "You are ordered to return to formation immediately."

"You don't understand! It's a trap! Break formation! They're going to ambush us!"

"What are you talking about? Get back in formation!" demanded the Captain.

Before Astrid could explain herself, Stormfly spun her domed head around, blaring loudly to look starboard. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw it.

A large, shimmering blue shadow suddenly materialized several hundred meters to the right of the station before dissipating to reveal a massive cruiser. The ship resembled Mandalorian designs, being long shaft and decorated with sharp edges and small wing-like struts flanking either side of the engines. The center of the ship was oddly split into two pieces, something that appeared odd to Astrid. Hundreds of fighters appeared alongside it, speeding towards the task force.

"That's Dagur's personal ship," muttered Captain Phlegma. "The _Skrill_."

* * *

A/N: With the exception of _Thunder Run_ and _Repto_, all ship names are references to dragon species or the names of dragons, some more obvious while others are the more obscure ones mentioned in the books. Every ship I've mentioned is an actual ship from star wars (you can check the wiki, there's one for everything it seems). The names of Viking Squad are from across the HTTYD franchise from the novels to the movies to the games. No kidding, there are actually characters named Dogsbreath, Piglegs, and Speedfist mentioned in the novels and video games.

Like I said before, updates will be irregular, but they might grow in length as time goes on.

Also, please forgive any typos I have because I have to type on my tablet and auto-correct is being stubborn and does not want to cooperate with me.

-**Bonus notes/interpretations for jargon used (be it created by me or something from the Star Wars universe) for those who might get confused or aren't that knowledgeable about Star Wars:**

BNV - Berkian Naval Vessel; designation for Berkian military vessels meaning

Uglies - starfighters built from scrap parts left on the battlefield, horribly ineffective and essentially suicide fighter/craft

Outer Rim - the outermost edge of the known galaxy bordering on uncharted space, typically infested with pirates and general unlawfulness

Droidspeak/binary - the language of droids who do not communicate with words (an example would be R2-D2 as opposed to C-3PO)


	3. Black Hawk's Down

III

_**Black Hawk**_**'s ****Down**

Meanwhile...

On the desert planet of Turin VII...

Sharpshot sat in the LAAT/i as it sped across the barren landscape, meticulously checking his gear in preparation for battle; polishing the visor of his ARF helmet, checking the pouches of spare ammunition and extra equipment on his armor, calibrating the sights of his WESTAR-M5 blaster rifle. It was a ritual drilled into his mind from years of intense training. Not maintaining one's equipment properly have led to unneeded deaths in combat.

Combat that Sharpshot felt his little team was not ready for. Of the six members the boss had chosen and sent to help Sharpshot destroy the slaver compound, he only knew two of them by reputation. The rest, even though they were members of the same organization, were complete strangers.

The two pilots for the Old Republic LAAT/i _Black Hawk_, were complete unknowns. He didn't even know what species they were, and he had seen a good amount of aliens in his relatively short life. The only concrete things he knew were that they had blue skin, long black hair fashioned into ponytails, were incredibly lanky, and that the guy was named Na'vi and the girl was Neyetiri.

Hoss Delgado and Reginald Skarr, on the other hand, were pretty renowned bounty hunters.

Hoss Delgado was a massive Weequay, with broad, wide shoulders, a bright orange bandana on top of his head, muscular arms, and a scowl permanently chiseled into his leathery skin. Being a bounty hunter had taken its toll on Hoss since he wore a eyepatch over his left eye and possessed a prosthetic right hand and left foot. Despite that, he was still the same heavy hitter he always was years ago, often causing collateral damage in the process. He had a natural affinity for destruction, which was probably why he was chosen for this mission.

Reginald Skarr was a older Devaronian with a gray handlebar moustache, a triangle shaped goatee that pointed downwards, and two curved horns coming out of his bald red head. The most distinguishing feature of Skarr's was ironically his scarred left eye. His left eye was pearly white with a small lighting bolt shaped scar forming underneath it. From what Sharpshot knew, he was a former General in the Con Carne Crime Syndicate, before it was usurped by one of the many Imperial splinter fractions formed after the Empire's collapse. Reports indicated that in between bounties, he personally hunted down and assassinated the officials involved, although nothing was done about it. Skarr was ex-military, same as Sharpshot was, and he too was checking his equipment.

The only other person on board who had the same common sense was an young Umbaran girl who kept her distance from everyone, standing in the back. Her name was Raven, supposedly, and she was easily the youngest person present, maybe sixteen at the oldest. She, like all Umbarans, was unnaturally pale and possessed sunken eyes, with short blue-black hair styled in a bob cut. On her forehead, she wore some kind of red jewel. Probably a cultural thing. It was one thing to know about alien species, another to know about their cultures. Raven wore what was apparently a custom tailored version of the Umbaran militia uniform under a dark blue cloak that she kept the hood raised ever since they boarded the _Black Hawk_. Her weapon was a Umbaran blaster rifle and was a unique design, advanced and only available to the Umbaran militia. How she got a hold of that or how she got involved with their militia was a mystery. The bigger question was how did she manage to escape once she got involved? Groups that used child soldiers didn't typically give them freedom like they promised.

Then again, everyone for worked for his organization had a story. Sharpshot was no exception. He was an ex-Imperial after all. Cloned from the Fett template, he was born, bred, and trained to fight in the 501st. The only problem was that even from a young age, he could never agree with the Empire's xenophobic views. He was lucky that the Empire fell when it did and he was able to escape in the ensuing chaos. Instead of donning the armor he was given, he opted to wear the armor of the valiant clone troopers of the Old Republic. He obtained some armor from one of his Mandolorian instructors at the cloning facility he was raised at. Supposedly, one of his best friends was a clone trooper who sought to defy the Empire and was promptly executed for his refusal to hunt Jedi. The aging merc had kept his armor and gave it to Sharpshot, hoping he could preserve the legacy of the clones.

The armor consisted of an ARF helmet, which had similar functions to the Imperial Scout Trooper's helmets, a ARC trooper's double pauldron, a life-support pack attached to the back, and a blast-dampening _kama_ battle skirt fitted with quick-draw holsters. The armor had been decorated with light green markings and bore reddish-brown highlights.

Looking around at his motley crew, he realized he was the most protected. Skarr and Hoss wore matching combat fatigues with blast dampening lining while Raven bore a little bit of armor underneath her cloak and he assumed that her cloak was blast dampening as well. But Jack was the odd man out in the room full of misfits.

Jack Frost. Sharpshot didn't even know what to think of the albino human. Sharpshot knew that Raven was silent because she was an Umbaran. They were usually solidary people. Skarr was debating with Hoss over their equipment, probably to see whose is better or more pratical. Hoss was a lover of big guns and he carried his Z-6 rotary blaster cannon with pride. Skarr, on the other hand, apparently preferred a simple DC-15A blaster rifle. The discussion was intense as their voices grew louder and louder with each remark and retort they threw at each other.

Jack, on the other hand, stood in front of the gunship's side door, twirling around some type of collapsible electrostaff model Sharpshot had never seen before in his hands. He had no armor that Sharpshot could see, wearing only plain brown trousers, a blue hooded jacket, and combat boots. No gauntlets or shoulder pads or knife strapped to his leg or blaster pistol holster. Not even a utility belt. The only thing he carried was that collapsible electrostaff. Must have a deathwish or something.

But then again, if the boss picked him for this mission, then he brought something to the team, even if Sharpshot didn't know what it was. Everyone Sharpshot had worked with over the last year had been an oddball, misfit, pariah, loner, or outcast, but they all had extraordinary skills that Sharpshot always had trouble initially believing.

A young boy with reflexes so fast that he was able to use a sword, not a virbrosword or electro-blade, but a regular, plain, unaltered sword to slice a slug in half shot at him pointblank from a slugthrower.

A Miralukan female, which was a race born with no eye-sockets and possessed no sight, was able to swiftly disarm half a dozen men before his very eyes, all of whom were a head taller, weighted thirty kilograms heavier, and possessed vibroknives.

A pink-haired near-human female who was able to hack into Imperial Remnant and New Republic military grade encryptions without breaking a sweat or batting an eye _while_ flying a _Consular_-class cruiser with an only an astromech as co-pilot.

A young Harch male that was easily the most kind-hearted person that Sharpshot had ever encountered. He was able to pilot medium to large freighters by himslef with ease. He was also a capable fighter, due to his arachnid features such as six arms, but his incredibly passive nature prevented him from delivering a killing blow.

Unfortunately, Sharpshot didn't have time to contemplate his team's mysterious set of skills as a the lights in the passenger hold turned red. He slipped on his helmet as everyone stood at attention, waiting for the announcement.

"Okay guys, the slaver compound is only a klick away. Intel says that a group of Zygerrian slavers who own the compound. There should be no more then thirty of them, so don't worry. We'll cover you from up here," reassured Na'vi, opening the passenger hold doors. "Should be a simple blue milk run, am I right?"

Sharpshot wished Na'vi hadn't said that. Blue milk runs had a tendency for being a lot more complicated then originally thought. He pushed the thought aside and glanced out the side of the gunship, the five-meter high walls of the slaver compound quickly approaching. Already something felt off. From this distance the slavers should have saw them and opened fire. He knew that compounds like this usually had heavy blaster turrents to deter escapes or outside attacks, so why weren't they being fired at them?

Maybe he should count himself lucky that they hadn't opened fire. Larties like the _Black Hawk_ were known for their impressive firepower and versatility but also for their relative lack of armor. It didn't take much to shoot one down.

"Something doesn't feel right," remarked Raven, glancing at the slaver compound with calculating eyes. Everyone looked at Raven, who spoke for the first time since they had all met hours ago. "There's absolutely no activity down there."

"Yeah, there should be some type of response by now," added Skarr.

The _Black Hawk_ slowed down as they approached the outer walls of the compound. Just like the holomaps they saw, the compound was only a transferring center, with the bulk of the complex taken up by a large landing pad and holding cells for their captive slaves. A small barracks and a comm tower stood near the mess hall, which was connected to the command center of the complex. Nearly a dozen swoops were parked along the wall near the main entrance. The place was pretty well fortified from what Sharpshot could see, as they circled around the compound, waiting for the inevitable exchange. At each corner of the compound stood guard towers, each one armed with a E-WEB heavy repeating blaster and a unrestricted three hundred and sixty degree view. The only blind spot was directly under the tower, but that didn't even matter as there was no cover for hundreds of meters around the compound. One couldn't even get within a hundred meters before being cut down by blaster fire.

But there was still no response. No guards rushing to their posts. No alarms going off.

"Could they have abandoned it?" Jack pointed at the launch pad. "Look, there's no escape craft to be seen guys. Slavers always keep a ship on standby in case there's a breakout. Maybe the slaves broke out."

"It's possible, but there isn't signs of a breakout," contradicted Hoss, gesturing to the holding cells. Even from fifteen meters up in the air and one eye, Hoss was able to tell that the holding cell was untouched. Sharpshot's HUD only confirmed that. His helmet picked up no blast marks or signs of damage to the holding facility.

"Na'vi, take us down," ordered Sharpshot.

"You sure about that?"

"Just do it. We need to figure out what happened here and if possible, where they went. Alright, new plan everyone. Skarr, you secure the comm tower and figure out who sent the last few transmissions. Hoss, check out the armory. Maybe they left something useful behind. Jack, you and Raven investigate the-"

"INCOMING!" interrupted Hoss.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sharpshot saw the telltale smoke trail of a missile heading towards them. The _Black Hawk_ shuddered as it abruptly pulled up, but it was too late. The rocket slammed into the back of the larty, jolting Sharpshot and sending the _Black Hawk_ into a downward spiral. Dirt, duracrete, and smoke swirled around him as he struggled to kept upright while G forces slammed into his side.

"Jump!" shouted Jack, leaping off as the gunship.

Without a second's hesitation, Sharpshot followed suit. He leaped, slightly bending his knees and keeping his legs together so they landed at the same time. He hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of him. He laid on the ground for a few seconds, catching his breath when he heard rough voices coming towards him.

And it didn't belong to anyone on his team.

Where was his rifle?

Blaster bolts struck the ground near him, kicking up dirt. No time to worry about it now. Sharpshot leaped up, drawing his DC-17 hand blasters, firing wildly at his would-be assailants as he ran towards cover. He ducked behind nearest pile of cargo crates, struggling to get his bearings. He cautionsly peered over the side of the crates, seeing at half a dozen human pirates armed with blaster rifles firing at his position from behind their swoops.

Great.

He was outgunned _and_ outnumbered. Behind him, an explosion rocked the ground. Black smoke rose from the mess hall where the larty went down.

"Is everyone alright?" Sharpshot asked over his helmet-integrated comlink, worried about his team. They needed to regroup quickly. Otherwise, the pirates were going to overrun them.

"The _Black Hawk_'s down!" responded Skarr after a tense thirty seconds.

"The pilots?"

"Dead. No way they survived the crash."

Sharpshot felt a sour taste in his mouth. He didn't even know Na'vi or Neyetiri, and he had been trained from birth to ignore death on the battlefield, but he still felt bad.

But what could he do for them except avenge their deaths?

"Skarr, where are you and the others?"

"We're fine," he answered over the deafening sounds of blaster fire. "Hoss, Jack, and I are ten meters to your right, behind the corner of the building."

Sharpshot saw the building Skarr was talking about. He could see the three of them hiding behind the corner of the barracks, waiting for his order as red blaster bolts filled the empty space between them.

"Can you guys cover me?" Several blaster blots struck the sides of the crate, bathing Sharpshot in sparks.

"I can," assured Jack. Before Sharpshot could ask how he had planned to do that, Jack ran out clutching his collapsible electrostaff. He must have activated something on it because out of each side of the staff handle, a yellow blade ignited with the trademark hum of a lightsaber. His arms and the blades became a blur as he swung it around, deflecting the bolts from the pirates, sending them harmlessly into the ground.

Jack possessed a double-bladed lightsaber?

No, he had seen plenty of holos and had plenty of training about lightsabers. Jack's blades were far too thick and Sharpshot had never heard of a yellow blade. The only Jedi who possessed yellow blades according to his recollection were Temple Guards. That meant Jack was wielding a double-bladed lightsaber pike, a incredibly rare artifact. But how did he even obtain it in the first place and how in the wide, wide galaxy did he know how to use it like that?

Was he a Jedi?

Without missing a beat, Jack rushed forward with inhuman speed, ducking and dodging everything the pirates threw at him. The pirates, disheveled at Jack's mad rush, broke cover and began firing wildly, hoping to overwhelm him. Skarr took advantage of the now exposed pirates and popped out of his corner, lined up a shot, and fired, killing one with a headshot that made Sharpshot envy. After all, he earned his name for his high accuracy.

"Eat laser pirate scum!" Hoss ran out with his Z-6 blazing, cutting down two more unfortunate pirates. With a maniacal grin plastered on his face, he taunted "How's it taste?"

Jack closed the distance between him and the nearest pirate in the matter of seconds, swinging his pike downward, slashing the pirate across his chest. He advanced towards the last pirate, who had apparently lost control of his bowels, and swiftly decapitated him with a flick of the wrist.

Skarr eyed Jack with suspicion, keeping his rifle raised in cease there were more pirates lurking about as he approached him. "You never said anything about being a Jedi."

"Just because I can use a Jedi weapon doesn't mean I am one." Jack flashed Skarr a mischievous grin. "Why, you jealous?"

"No, but if something unfortunate were to happen to you, I know quite a few collectors who would pay a mighty sum for that lightsaber of yours," mused Skarr, rubbing his chin in a thoughtful manner. Judging by the twinkle in his eye, there was no doubt the Devaronian was scheming.

Sharpshot brushed past the two as Skarr pressed Jack on he managed to obtain his lightsaber. Sharpshot could care less. However Jack got it, it was his buisness, no matter how interesting his little tale might be. There was no doubt in Sharpshot's mind that certain details would be exaggerated or played up.

As Sharpshot walked towards the pirate's corpses, he began searching the storage units on the swoops. Swoops were little more then a oversized engine fitted with maneuvering vanes, but these ones were modified to contain small storage units on the back of the swoop.

Maybe there was something useful inside.

Sure enough, there were lots of stuff in the storage units, but they weren't what a typical pirate or fringer would keep. Instead of spice, bottles of ale or whiskey, emergency rations, and repair tools, the storage units were filled with thermal detonators, concussion grenades, vials of various poisons, containers of knockout gas, and EMP grenades.

Definitely not your typical pirate loot.

Why would these pirates carry these?

It was all military grade equipment and hard to come by. If they were attacking a slaver compound, why would they need any of it? Slavers were not that well-armed, due to fear of a slave revolt, typically only possessing heavy blaster turrets and electrowhips. If these pirates got inside, where was the slavers and their captives?

"Guys, we have a problem," ominously stated Hoss, leaning over a pirate body.

"What's wrong?" Before the words left his mouth, he saw it.

A tattoo on the corpse's inner forearm of a skull wearing a helmet with curved horns.

The symbol of the Berserkers.

"Of course," remarked Jack, extending his arms upward. "We take out an arms dealer and he works for the Hutts. We shoot down a few pirate ships and one of the pilot was the brother of a Black Sun Vigo. We claim a couple of million credit bounties and the Bounty Hunter's Guild comes after us. We raid a slaver compound and get ambushed by Berserkers. Why can't we just catch a break? Is it too much to ask for something to go our way?"

"Hands where I can see them," suddenly declared a gruff voice behind them. Sharpshot spun around but was too slow as three Berserkers aimed their disruptor rifles at them.

Not good.

Disruptor rifles, unlike blaster rifles, could penetrate most blast-dampening armor and bypass personal energy shields. Disruptor rifles had a low magazine capacity but possessed high accuracy and they could rip apart someone of the molecular level, typically leaving only a pile of ash.

"I hate my mouth," sourly remarked Jack, dropping his lightsaber pike.

"Well, don't worry, we do too," commented Skarr, throwing down his rifle.

Hoss stared daggers at Jack with his one eye. "If we make it out of here alive, I'll gladly weld it shut."

"Shut the hell up you filthy leatherhead," growled a Berserker wearing goggles, pointing the barrel of his rifle at Hoss.

"You, take off your helmet," ordered a tattooed Berserker, gesturing with his rifle at Sharpshot. Sharpshot complied, hoping to avoid bloodshed and stall for time. He slowly raised his hands up and removed his helmet, tossing it on the floor. "Well, look at that. A clone. Haven't seen one of those in a while."

"Ah, those _things_ ain't natural, so don't act so astounded," sneered the last Berserker whose nose had clearly been broken before and didn't properly set.

"Well, they did get the drop on Daed and his team, didn't they?" rhetorically asked Goggles, scooping up the team's weapons. He threw them away, far enough where diving for them would be suicide.

Broken Nose snorted in disbelief. "Good riddance to him. Never did like him anyway."

"If you don't mind me asking, I would like to know what you did with the slavers," blurted Jack out of nowhere. Sharpshot glanced at him, wondering if he really did have a deathwish. Starting small talk with Berserkers was not a good idea, especially if these men were Dagur's commandos.

Dagur was extremely xenophobic, believing humans were the dominiant species in the galaxy and all aliens should be submissive. As a result, his armada was lead solely by humans, with aliens serving on front line duty and used in high-risk missions with high casualty estimates.

Dagur's commandos was supposedly a elite unit of all human soldiers, were reserved for Dagur's exclusive use. Rumors persisted that only few other high ranking members of Dagur's little empire could command his elite unit. The rumors surrounding the unit were varied and many, just like it's capabilities. Some rumors said it was as big as a small army. Others claimed Dagur could order the deaths of anyone in the galaxy with a numbered order.

But Sharpshot had always doubted the abilities of Dagur's commandos and these soldiers only proved his suspicions that Dagur's commando unit was just a ruse to spread fear across the Outer Rim.

Still, even if Jack had made the connections, why was he asking something so stupid? Did he want to die? If they were taken prisoner, unspeakable horrors awaited them. Sharpshot had seen the bodies of the unfortunate men and women Dagur had personally tortured. Many of the bodies were so mangled, it was hard enough to even identify the species, let alone identify the person. Sharpshot simply held his breath, waiting for the Berserker's response.

"Should we tell 'em?" Tattoo looked at Broken Nose, who was apparently in charge. Broken Nose simply grunted. "Well, if you must know, we...requisitioned the slaves for our own personal uses. They're already offworld in a safe place."

"And the slavers?"

"Dead."

Jack nodded in approval. "That's all we came here to do, but it seems you've beaten us to the punch and made some extra credits. I only wonder if we get to keep the deposit they gave us." Jack looked back at his team, a smirk plastered on his face.

Broken Nose greedily raised an eyebrow at Jack's remark. "What deposit?"

"Well, we were given some credits up front to take out this slaver compound," lied Jack, trying to stall for time. Sharpshot however, had trouble trying to figure out what for. "The job was to destroy this compound and kill the slavers. It didn't detail what to do about the slaves. That's why we had the gunship. Once the slavers were killed, we were going to sell the slaves to our employer."

"If he wanted slaves that badly, why didn't he just buy them in the first place?" asked Goggles, lowering his rifle in interest.

"Because the slavers didn't want to sell. They had some other plans for the slaves, especially at the price our employer was offering. It was unlawful, really."

"So, because you so loyally disposed of the slavers, you were going to sell them to your employer," concluded Tattoo, obviously calculating numbers in his head.

"Obviously for a discount," added Jack.

"Of course. Hypothetically speaking, how much was he willing to buy each slave?"

Jack rubbed his chin, pretending to be in deep thought. "I think it was nine thousand per healthy male. Twelve thousand for every beautiful and healthy female. Do you guys remember what other prices there were?"

"Wasn't it fifteen for a Twi'lek female?" made up Skarr, playing along.

"I thought he offered fifteen for Wookiees," remarked Hoss. "Or was it for Gamorreans?"

"You know, suppose that a few slaves escaped during your attack," suggested Jack. "After you deliver the slaves wherever you are taking them to, you could theoretically make a detour to try and catch some of the runaways."

Broken Nose broke out into a wide grin. "But of course, we were undermanned and couldn't catch all of them. Someone came along and sold them, to your employer, am I right?"

He had taken the bait.

Now what did Jack intend to do?

"So what is your employer's name and where can we find him?" asked Goggles.

"Now wait a minute, we need to strike a deal. We go free and the slaves are yours. We're be more then happy to leave with the deposit and our lives."

"Oh, no, I think you mean just your lives," corrected Broken Nose.

"Well, we need that deposit, seeing as your destroyed our gunship and killed our pilots. Both cost money and we're probably not going to have any left after this."

Goggles and Tattoo looked at each other and then at Broken Nose. Broken Nose had his head held down, deep in thought. A tense minute or so passed before he spoke up. "I have a new proposition for you."

"Well, what is it?"

Before Broken Nose could reply, several green bolts shot out, striking Tattoo in the back and Goggles in the back of his head. Broken Nose spun around to face his assailant, but before he pulled the trigger, he suddenly flew up, dropping his rifle. He stayed suspended in the air, groaning in pain. Out of the shadow of the barracks walked forward a cloaked figure with one armed outstretched.

It was _Raven_.

In the confusion, Sharpshot had completely forgotten about her.

"How are you numbskulls still breathing?" Raven calmly strode up to them, her arm still raised at Broken Nose. With a monotonous voice, she stated, "I've known a great deal of idiots, but you brain dead morons take the cake."

"We were only bluffing in order for you to make your move," pointed out Jack, retrieving his lightsaber pike. "Otherwise, there wouldn't have been a point in stalling."

"Or maybe you just like the sound of your voice," remarked Skarr.

Changing the subject, Sharpshot asked,"How are you doing this?"

Raven shrugged her shoulder. "I guess you could say I have the powers of a Jedi, but I am not an actual Jedi. I don't own a lightsaber either."

"Great. A little girl who can use the Force and has no lightsaber and a little boy who has a lightsaber but can't use the Force." Hoss looked Jack, then Raven, then Jack again. "I'm surrounded by weirdos."

"You're one to talk," retorted Jack, gesturing to Hoss's missing limbs.

"Can we get back on task?" asked Sharpshot, walking over to the suspended Broken Nose. "We need to know where you sent the slaves."

"So you can earn some credits?" Broken Nose spat at Sharpshot's feet. "I rather let them die then fall into your greedy hands."

"Look, this can go one of two ways, alright?" interupted Hoss, sticking out his right index finger. The tip of his finger parted, revealing a mini-laser cutter. "You can cooperate and tell us what we need to know or we can get...creative with our persuasion tactics."

"Just so you know, I've seen a Jedi break arms and legs with the mere flick of the wrist," commented Skarr. He started searching the bodies of Goggles and Tattoo for anything that could give them a clue as to where the slaves were. "It's in your best interests you cooperate. At least that way, you won't be missing appendages like Hoss over here."

Broken Nose gulped. "Dagur will kill me if I tell you."

"We'll do worse," threatened Hoss, closing in with his finger laser. "We'll disfigure you and send back to Dagur still breathing. What will he do then?"

"I don't like doing this, but this is taking too long." Raven closed her open hand and Broken Nose's left arm twisted into a unnatural angle, snapping with a audible _crack_. Broken Nose left out a raw, inhuman howl, that was gut wrenching to hear. Tears of pain streamed down his cheeks. "Do you feel like cooperating now?"

Admist unintelligible blabbers of pain, he weakly answered, "Yes." Raven dropped her hand and Broken Nose fell to the ground, clutching his ruined arm. He painstakingly crawled up to his knees, taking deep breaths. "What do you want to know you freaks?"

"Where are the slaves?" demanded Hoss. He held up his laser finger. "Don't make me disfigure you more then I have to."

"They-they're at Eron station," answered Broken Nose, recoiling at Hoss's threat. "In a warehouse in the industrial center. Warehouse TK-421. Will you let me go now?"

"Thanks for your cooperation." Skarr produced a hidden slugthrower pistol from the back of his belt and shot Broken Nose in the back of the head.

Everyone jumped back, even Raven, and stared at Skarr in disbelief.

"You didn't have to kill him!" protested Sharpshot, his right hand connecting with Skarr's left cheek. "He could have told us more!"

"What could he have told us?" Skarr massaged his bruised cheek, unfazed. "Where their fueling station is? Where their bases are? We know all of that, but can't assault any of them because of all the troops guarding them!"

Sharpshot felt anger festering inside of him, but he couldn't do anything about now. They needed to get to Eron Station fast in order to save the slaves. Otherwise, Na'vi and Neyetiri died for nothing. "Someone get to the comms tower and contact the _Bog Burglar_. Tell Camicazi we need a ride to Eron Station."

* * *

A/N: Don't worry, the epic space battle will resume next chapter. Just so you know, this chapter is supposed to set up an organization which will come into play later on in the story, (be it good or ill, you just have to wait). The characters in this chapter and future chapters are all expies from various shows that I've adapted (a good number of them into aliens) and they are what the OC stands for in my character list as there will be a lot of them and they are _very_ relevant to the plot.

Examples of where the characters come from would be Raven, who is from one of my favorite cartoons, Teen Titans.

I dare you to figure out the rest of them.

I also changed the character list as I realized that Camicazi will be a much more relevant character then I originally thought.

A note for you shippers out there (regardless if you are the tame, canon, realistic shippers or the... odd genderbend/dragonxhuman shippers): THERE WILL BE NO SHIPPING, at least as far as the HTTYD cast are concerned. Far too often have I read a book or watch something that starts off with a incredible backstory and lots of potential, only to focus on "true love" which is established after meeting for a incredibly short amount of time. I think the record I've seen is _less then five minutes after meeting_. Something along the likes of Astrid and Hiccup's relationship in Foxy'sGirl's Chasing Thunderstorms or Annabeth Grace and Percy Jackson in the Percy Jackson novels have some of the more believable lengths of time. My best argument in this case would be the Hunger Games FILM franchise (never read the books so I can's diss that but I did see the movies). Twenty four kids fighting each other for their lives while being watched and coming from different districts with different cultures. The intricate plot they could done with all that...

...but instead, what do they do? A love story and they end up killing most of the competing kids in less then five minutes with no names or any type of sympathy for them.

_Battle Royale_ by Koushun Takami had forty-two kids fighting each other to the death while being watched by the government and the media (came out in the late nineties and is often debated to be the inspiration for the Hunger Games, but has yet to be confirmed). In _Battle Royale_, there are at least five different subplots going on at the same time in addition to the main plot. Best buddies turning on each other over past actions. Gang members betray the pack for their own interests. BFFs working together to survive. Lovers decide to take their lives together instead of competing. Some students try to fight back against the government. Others methodically and sadistically murder all in their way. Most of the forty-two students are given backstory and motivations and personalities, so when they die, you feel empathy for them, unlike in the Hunger Games movie. The only character I felt for was Rue, but that was the whole point of her character and it was somewhat obvious that she would die. (Aside from being good at deconstructing movies and novels, Rue's character in a setting like that pratically screamed that she would be a morality pet or a gut wrenching victim)

What do we get in the Hunger Games?

Almost every nameless character dying within ten minutes of the game starting and Katniss simply wandering around, trying to survive and falling in love with Peeta as everyone else kills each other. She indirectly kills two people (don't even try to argue, since she had no way of knowing if the bugs would actually kill the Glimmer girl and if there was no beasts, the Cato guy would not have died) and only directly kills one which gives her PTSD in the second film, but it was self-defense in a dog-eat-dog crapsack world. You don't see zombie apocalypse survivors grieve over bandits they kill in self-defense (except for ones were they give you ample reason which the film doesn't even attempt to provide for the Marvel guy since he's a cold-blooded killer anyway). We know nothing about the Careers except that they like to kill and are probably sociopaths and psychopaths just because the plots demands it. In _Battle Royale_, everyone the main characters met had some sort of backstory as to why they attacked or defended themselves. Even the main two student antagonists have their own semi-justifiable reasons for killing everyone else. (It was twisted logic on their part, but it offered a glimpse into their mindset, unlike the kids from the Hunger Games)

So forgive me if I do not do any shipping with the HTTYD cast.

And the rant.

PS: Also, please forgive any typos I have because I have to type on my tablet and auto-correct is being stubborn and does not want to cooperate with me. Not to mention, the Roman numerals I center on the document are not centering on the actual screen after I post it for some odd reason, so I apologize for that.

-**Bonus notes/interpretations for jargon used (be it created by me or something from the Star Wars universe) for those who might get confused or aren't that knowledgeable about Star Wars:**

Fringer - people who live on the fringe of space, otherwise known as society's outcasts or loners who prefer solitude

Larty - clone nickname for LAATs and their variants

Blue milk run - Star Wars equivalent of "a piece of cake" and used similarly to "what else could go wrong?"

Vigo - a high ranking leader within the Black Sun crime syndicate


End file.
